Baptism By Fire
by Sekhmet.Rising
Summary: To enter the inner sanctum of Asami's clan is a brutal, violent initiation and precious few survive the trial by fire. However, even among those men, Kirishima Kei is special.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder, and I do not make a profit off of anything I write pertaining to Viewfinder.  
Rating: NC-17  
Spoiler: None.  
Warning: Non-Con Slavery, Language, Adult Concepts, Sexual Situations, etc.  
Pairing: Asami/Kirishima**

* * *

**Baptism By Fire**

The sound of shattering glass echoing down the administration hall at Club Sion had Suoh running from his own office to Kirishima's, concerned about the first assistant considering how loud the noise was. The door was wide open, and Kirishima's mostly empty coffee mug lay in ruins on the bamboo floor, dribbles of the remainder of his coffee spattered over the paperwork he'd dropped. The man himself wore an expression Suoh had never seen on his face: utter shock tinged with fear. So much so that Kirishima's face had no color in it, and he was trembling. _Trembling_. Suoh never saw the assistant as _anything_ but cool and collected in the most stressful of situations.

_What the hell?_

"Kei?" he said softly, to not startle the already distressed man.

Kirishima blinked owlishly at his name, as if coming out of a trance, and glanced over at his counterpart. Suoh couldn't hide his surprise at how young and lost his friend seemed in that moment, and he seriously thought about calling Asami.

"What's wrong?"

Kirishima looked pointedly at his desk, and Suoh followed his line of sight. Sitting on his desktop, wrapped beautifully in several layers of black patterned tissue paper, was a gift. Sleek silver ribbon was tied in a discreet bow and beneath it, a card with his name on it, handwritten in what both he and Suoh knew to be Asami's clean, concise script. Suoh immediately relaxed, recognizing it for what it was. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb.

"So, it's time."

Kirishima could only nod jerkily.

"Hey, it's not so bad, Kei. Really," he added, trying to ease the other man's worries.

Kirishima nodded again and finally forced his body to move, to start picking up the pieces of the broken mug. Suoh bent down to help. They worked in silence for several heartbeats until Asami appeared in the doorway, unnoticed by both men until he spoke.

"Kirishima," Asami called, getting their attention.

The assistant started badly at the deep voice of his boss, dropping a number of the shards he'd gathered, the tinkling of them hitting the floor loud in the pregnant quiet. Asami was a different kind of Japanese man. Perhaps it was due to the international travel and dealing with all manner of people. Or perhaps it was just his predatory nature overcoming societal conditioning. But Asami preferred his employees look him in the eyes when they spoke. It was a rule Kirishima had followed in all of the years they'd known each other. Until now.

"A-Asami-sama?" he asked, unable to bring himself to lift his chin.

Suoh's apprehension at Kirishima's disobedience was obvious on his face as he looked at his boss, hoping Asami would show the shorter man mercy. Asami caught his gaze and shook his head slightly, the harsh planes of his face softening when those hard golden eyes rested on his loyal-to-a-fault assistant. In that instant, Suoh knew their boss would forgive Kirishima much.

"My office, now," Asami stated and walked away, the staccato rap of his shoes on the hardwood floor throbbing through Kirishima's blood.

"Go," Suoh said when Kirishima remained frozen where he squatted, like a small animal entranced by a snake. "I'll clean this up."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes!" he insisted, picking up the pieces Kirishima dropped. "Go. Don't keep him waiting."

Kirishima felt his heart beating in his throat as he walked down the hall, figuratively dragging his feet. He knew what that gift on his desk meant as soon as he'd opened the door this morning, and he still hadn't recovered from the shock of seeing it. He tasted bile in the back of his throat, knowing the slight of not meeting Asami's eyes wouldn't go unpunished, on top of everything else the gift represented.

The solid black doors of Asami's office loomed over Kirishima, and for a split second he considered running, as irrational as that choice would be. He'd known this man for more of his life than not. He knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, Asami would personally hunt his ass down and destroy him and anything he had ever loved if he did something so foolish. But the rising tide of panic wasn't listening to his rational brain. He threw the doors open in a desperate bid to save his hide, countering his boss' wary look at his entrance with a murmured apology, and then shut them with more control. Asami cocked his head slightly and stood.

"Kei," he said, noting his assistant's shaking hands, "sit down before you fall down."

He bowed deeply, stiffly and collapsed onto the leather couch opposite the desk. Asami approached him, making sure to appear as non-threatening to his assistant as possible; the man was already stressed about their upcoming encounter. A healthy dose of fear was always preferable when dealing with his employees—but not when he interacted with Kei. He was too valuable for Asami to fuck with in such a callous manner. He sat next to Kirishima, the tension rolling off of the shorter man in waves, and pulled two cigarettes out of the pack in his suit coat, offering one to Kei. Asami lit his own and watched Kei fumble inelegantly with his lighter until he flicked on his own, offering up the flame. Kirishima nodded his thanks, not trusting himself to speak.

"Are you prepared for this?" Asami asked casually, watching the emotions play across Kirishima's face.

"No sir," he replied and took a deep drag. "Not at all."

Asami nodded in acknowledgment. "Are you nervous?"

"I'm terrified," he stated simply, voice tight with strain.

"There is nothing for you to fear, Kei."

Kirishima inhaled the smoke wrong and started coughing. Asami offered him a tumbler with rich amber liquid—most likely whiskey, he thought absently as he took it—and swallowed a large mouthful.

"With all due respect, Asami-sama, I've heard some of the stories about the aftermath"—he inwardly cursed at how meek he sounded—"about the loss of limbs and—"

"Kei," Asami interrupted and he was content to be, "how long have we known each other?"

"Twenty-three years, sir."

"In those twenty-three years, have you ever known me to be unfair?"

Kirishima paused. Brutal, yes. Violent, yes. But only when those situations warranted.

"No sir," he replied softly.

Asami continued smoking in the silence that followed, allowing Kirishima to sit with his words. His next question hit his assistant like a punch to the gut.

"Do you trust me?"

"Asami-sama!" he exclaimed, lifting his gaze to his boss' for the first time since entering the office. "With my very life!"

He held his tongue when he saw the small half-smile Asami sported, the one that indicated his boss knew the answer to the question he'd just asked. In that moment, Kirishima _knew_. What Asami had planned for him would happen, and he could meet his fate with dignity—Asami was giving him that choice. Or the man would drag him there, kicking and screaming. He relaxed marginally and took the last swallow of smooth, burning alcohol, setting the glass down on the side table. He finished the cigarette, mind wandering over the many possibilities for his upcoming trial but he was no longer in complete chaos. He _did_ trust Asami to make sure he survived.

And that was all there was to it.

While he'd been lost in thought, Asami moved back to his desk to work on what he'd been doing before Kirishima barged in. He stood, still a bit shaky but stable once more, and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Asami-sama," he said from his prostrated position.

"Stand up, Kei," Asami said without looking up.

"Yes sir," he said, straightening up.

Asami observed his right hand man from his desk. The terror was gone but the man was definitely still tightly strung. Well, _more so_ than usual. But Kirishima still wasn't looking him in the eye. If it were any one of his other employees and he'd be investigating the reason why. Amazing how whispers of treason brought up traditional Japanese conditioning in people.

"I should get back to work, Asami-sama," he prompted, hoping to be dismissed.

"No. You're done for the day," Asami said. "You'll go home and wait for me. I will send over an assistant to help you prepare. Would you prefer a man or woman to aid you? Keep in mind, this person will be aiding you _intimately_ though not sexually."

Kirishima's heart stuttered. They would service him in some way? Before he could dwell on that thought, Asami continued.

"We will be gone a week. Do not pack anything. We'll have everything we need where we're going."

It took the years of discipline he had under his belt to contain the groan that wanted to come out. He opted, instead, for "yes sir".

"And Kei?"

When Asami was assured of his assistant's attention, he said: "I do mean nothing."

"Yes, Asami-sama," he replied, gut in a knot. "Male, sir."

Asami nodded once and spoke as if to himself. "I will send Aya over. He seems to be the most talented."

"I'll take my leave, Asami-sama," Kirishima said when the other man grew quiet, and he reached for the door.

"Kei?"

"Sir?"

"On your way out, grab a Xanax from Suoh," the mogul said. He then glanced up from his work, smirk firmly in place. "Actually, have two. They're small."

* * *

_Oh hell no,_ Kirishima thought to himself, staring at the champagne colored goo. It appeared innocuous enough, but with the experiences Kirishima had booked in his lifetime, he'd learned to take _absolutely nothing _at face value. And he hadn't wanted to ask Aya, the young man Asami contracted for… whatever it was he was going to do. If he interrupted the kid, it might take longer than necessary, whatever _'it'_ was. The intense trepidation must have shown on his face because after several minutes of watching the young man set up, a small smile lit Aya's delicate features, transforming him from pretty to beautiful. Kirishima's cock twitched.

"Kirishma-sama," he said, his voice soft and melodic, "would it help if I explained what the tools are before I use them?"

He sighed. Had he been that transparent?

"Yes, please," he replied, sitting back in his modern-style chair. "That might be for the best."

Aya's smile turned into a wicked little grin, as if the two of them were conspiring together.

"At least Kirishima-sama doesn't have to be restrained," he said with entirely too much glee, or so Kei thought, amused. "I knew you would be a brave man, much braver than others I have been called on to attend to."

Kei chuckled. He had to give it to the young man—Aya knew how to put his clients at ease. He watched him finish setting up, laying strips of cloth out next to the covered futon where Kirishima assumed he would be lying, and then he stood. With a sensuality he knew Aya had no idea he possessed, he stripped out of the yukata, revealing a slender but fit body, his head turned from Kirishima, though Kei could see the shy blush staining the high cheekbones. And Kirishima drew in a sharp breath, startling the man-child, the submissive posture changing to one of sudden nervous awareness. Aya didn't move as Kirishima reached out as if to touch the heavy steel ring resting around the thin neck, but withdrew his hand quickly, knowing it was a cardinal offense to touch the collar of a slave who didn't belong to him personally.

"You're a slave," Kirishima stated.

"Y-Yes, Kirishima-sama," he stuttered, trembling slightly under the powerful scrutiny. "I-I apologize. I was told you knew."

"I didn't know you were owned."

The sound of Aya swallowing was loud, and the lithe body fell onto the floor into a full formal bow. The boy was scared, and Kei reflected, in any other circumstance, he had excellent reason to be: depending on who his master was, Aya could be beaten mercilessly for the perceived offense of not properly informing the right hand man of the most powerful man in Asia.

He needed control of the situation. Quickly. Sure, it was an oversight, but not worth taking the exquisite boy's blood over.

"Aya, stand up," he said, using his in-charge voice.

The boy almost tripped over himself to obey. The sheen of unshed tears ripped at Kirishima, though he wouldn't let the young man see. He had to remain the authority in Aya's mind.

"Am I permitted to touch you?"

"Yes, Kirishima-sama," he replied, voice quavering.

He grabbed the dainty wrist and tugged the boy onto his lap as he sat back in his chair. The smaller body was ramrod stiff, Aya not knowing what the larger man was planning to do to him for the infraction. Kirishima put his arms around him. Having grown up in a home with several younger brothers and sisters, his protective instincts were in overdrive concerning this child who had been forced to grow up much too soon. He could tell Aya was confused, probably having not been treated gently since his enslavement.

"How old are you?"

"Se-Seventeen, Kirishima-sama," he whispered.

"You hardly seem a day older than fifteen—"

"I turned seventeen two weeks ago! I swear!" Aya wailed, clutching desperately at Kei's yukata.

"I believe you, Aya-chan," he murmured soothingly and ran a hand through the boy's silky hair. "I believe you."

And he did; a lying slave would be punished severely.

"How did you become a slave?" Krishima asked.

He knew the answer wouldn't be a happy one, so he steeled himself as Aya took a deep breath.

"My father owed money. He was able to get all of it, even the interest, but—"

The young man's voice caught on a soft sob, unable to finish what he was saying. Kirishima didn't need him to say it out loud, though. He could guess what had happened. The young man's father had been late paying—and maybe only by a few days. He'd had experience with other groups who did business like that, and it made him profoundly grateful to work for a man like Asami, who gave grace periods when the people had children.

His arms tightened on the child nuzzling under his jaw and weeping, unconsciously reaching out for comfort.

"So you were taken as a consequence of late payment," Kirishima said, not liking that he was distressing the boy further. He felt Aya nod at his neck.

"How old were you?"

"F-Fourteen."

Kirishima's heart lurched. _Christ_. He'd been a baby. If someone had tried to take one of his siblings, he would have killed them. Painfully. A low growl escaped him before he could censor it, and he felt an answering whimper vibrate through his torso.

"I'm not angry with you, Aya-chan," he said hastily.

"Really?" The question was muffled by the youngster trying to burrow into him.

"Yes, really," he said quietly, deep brown eyes softening in a way only his siblings had ever witnessed.

Kirishima's lightning-fast mind started putting the pieces of Aya's life together, and his blood ran cold at the implications. But he needed to know one more thing. He shifted and lifted Aya's chin so the kid had to look at him.

"One more question, and we'll discuss other things," he said, gently wiping the tears from Aya's soft cheeks. "Okay?"

Aya nodded, and Kirishima was grateful the kid was much less tense than he had been.

"Are you untouched?"

Aya's cheeks bloomed a lovely shade of pink when he realized what Kirishima was asking. The response only served to strengthen Aya's quiet "yes"… and turned Kei's anger into a smoldering, dangerous rage. Before it could escape, he pushed it inside and hid it so the youngster wouldn't think it was his fault.

"Thank you for being honest with me, Aya-chan," he said when he managed to calm down enough.

He set Aya on his feet.

"Go wash your face, and when you get back, you can tell me what cruel and unusual punishment my boss has devised to put me through," he said with a sheepish half-smile.

The young man bowed to him.

"Yes, Kirishima-sama," he said and moved to obey.

As soon as the boy was out of earshot, Kirishima had his phone out, dialing the number he knew so well.

"_Are you impatient for my arrival, Kei?"_ Asami's smooth voice greeted.

The tone sent shivers down Kirishima's spine, but he couldn't be distracted. Not this time.

"Asami-sama," he replied. "To whom does Aya belong?"

The silence stretched out to near-uncomfortable proportions, and then Asami finally answered.

"I didn't expect this discussion so soon," the man said and Kei heard a cigarette being lit. "Yamamoto owns him."

Kirishima's jaw clenched.

"Asami-sama, I think we have a serious problem."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder, and I do not make a profit off of anything I write pertaining to Viewfinder.  
Rating: NC-17  
Spoiler: None.  
Warning: Non-Con Slavery, Language, Adult Concepts, Sexual Situations, etc.  
Pairing: Asami/Kirishima  
Summary: _To enter the inner sanctum of Asami's clan is a brutal, violent initiation and precious few survive the trial by fire. However, even among those men, Kirishima Kei is special._**

****NOTE: TheGrandJester: Yeah, my classes for Spring and Fall 2012 didn't let me work on anything but homework. This semester is much different, though, thank all the gods who exist! So updating will be more frequent now for everything. Thanks so much for reading! :)**  
**

**DEDICATION: President Obama has announced that the month of January is National Slavery And Human Trafficking Month once again: 2013 is the third year. This social issue is close to my own heart and life path, which is why a majority of my stories (both fanfiction and original) have an element of non-consensual and/or consensual slavery in them. If you are interested in talking with me about my own journey, I am more than happy to discuss it; please email me, and I will respond.  
**

******This story is dedicated to those people for whom slavery was not a choice. May all of them find a Kirishima Kei, and one day, I pray, we eradicate non-consensual slavery permanently.  
**

* * *

**Baptism By Fire Pt. 2**

"_What_ did you say that's for?"

Aya tried but failed to hide his amusement at Kirishima's obvious shock, more comfortable in the intimidating man's presence now he knew his transgressions would remain between the two of them. He could even like serving someone if that someone was as understanding and patient as Kirishima had been. Aya wasn't aware of the wistful expression on his face, but Kirishima didn't miss it.

"It's wax, Kirishima-sama," he explained again. "Asami-sama gave explicit instructions for you to be hair-free from your neck down."

Kei cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, as if he could already feel the hairs being ripped from around his cock. Wincing as he imagined the pain he'd be in, he crossed his legs, and if it was a little exaggerated (even though he really wasn't looking forward to a full-body wax) it was worth that bit of pride to see the young man stifle a giggle. Yes, he and Asami would have a private discussion about how they could help this child out.

He couldn't save all children in forced slavery, but he'd be damned before he let Aya suffer any longer—and he had the creeping suspicion that's exactly why Asami sent Aya to him.

"Ugh," he muttered. "Let's get this over with then, shall we?"

"Okay, Kirishima-sama," the young man replied and gestured to the covered futon. "If you would please lie down, I'll begin."

He laid down on the futon, and Aya covered him from his waist down. He was on his stomach, so he couldn't tell what the young esthetician was doing. Then a warm streak of what he knew to be wax covered a portion of his upper back and deft hands rubbed one of the linen strip over it.

"I'm sure this isn't going to be as bad—"

_RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPP!_

In that moment, Kirishima was _convinced_ hell existed and brimstone had just rained down upon his back. Before he could manage a squeak, much less _beg_ Aya to cease and desist, the same damned strip moved to another place on his back and the process repeated. Some small part of Kei's mind admired the efficiency with which Aya worked: no wasted movement as he made his way across Kirishima's back and down his spine. (The majority of his mind was spinning in a fog of pain and endorphins). In spite of the rough way he'd acquired them, Kei was impressed the young man had a marketable skill set. Not many slaves did.

The rest of the process went quickly, though not nearly fast enough for Kirishima's satisfaction. He was unable to contain the small yelps of pain as the hair on his shins was violently torn from his person, and the laughter in Aya's glittering eyes left Kei with the feeling that the kid was a bit of a sadist. He knew he couldn't take back the sigh of relief when Aya announced they were finished, but by that time, his pride was in complete shambles. A war with the Yamaguchi group was _much_ preferable to ever experiencing _that_ bit of horror again.

Kirishima went to shower, leaving Aya to clean up the mess in his living room. The hot water hit his throbbing body and he released a deep sign, just letting the cascade work on his tense muscles, washing the excess stickiness away. When he felt more relaxed, he soaped up and began scouring his overtaxed skin. His cheeks burned when he started cleaning up his groin—_me, embarrassed! Asami-sama would laugh, _he thought—but Aya had been nothing but professional in waxing his ass and pelvic area. He finally understood what Asami meant when he said it would be an _intimate_ service but not _sexual_. Kirishima was grateful he'd said male. Considering what had happened to him, he would _never_ have gone through with it if Aya had been female, after he explained what that thrice-blasted goo was.

Satisfied all the wax was gone, he washed his hair quickly and ran his glasses under the hot spray to get the oils from his face off of the frame. He exited, dried himself off, noting off-handedly that his skin was a bit more sensitive with the hair missing, but dismissed it as fast as it registered. He ran a hand over his cheeks and chin and opted to not shave what little shadow was there. If he needed to shave, Asami would provide him with the tools and washroom to do so.

He slipped into the master bedroom, with its clean lines and earth tones. The only thing out of place in the harmonious design were the heavy black draperies layered over the cream colored sheers; Kirishima preferred to sleep in pitch black. It was a long-established habit left over from his teen years running wild with a young Ryuuichi Asami as they planned how to take over Tokyo; it gave the young men an advantage in the darkness, and the few moments it could buy meant the difference between life and death on the streets. Kei turned his full attention to the beautiful, and potentially dangerous, gift on his bed. He didn't open it at work, not even the card, because it was entirely too personal for anyone to chance an interruption. And Aya certainly wouldn't come into his sleeping quarters without an invitation.

He moved toward it, drawn to it and conversely repelled, knowing his life would change for all time once that wrapping was off. He slipped the card from beneath the silver ribbon as he sat on the bed. His hands shook as he opened the back and pulled the elegant vellum card from its envelope. The front had no words but an embossed design Kirishima recognized immediately as Asami's family crest. He felt a wash of cold roiling under his skin and shut his eyes to focus on breathing through the budding panic attack. When he was once more in control, he flipped the card open.

Three words were scrawled inside in Asami's handwriting: Please Wear It. Wear it? he thought, glancing at the box. He carefully pulled the ribbon and wrapping off, and his eyes almost popped out of his head. A black silk kimono with a subtle koi pattern lay folded in its original packaging, the tailor one who charged hundreds of thousands of yen for each article of clothing she created by hand. With reverence, he took the kimono out of its resting place and shivered as the delicate fabric slid sensuously over his bare forearms.

Kei debated whether he should put briefs or a fundoshi on under it, but decided Asami meant what he said, so he would take the order literally. He put one arm through, then the other, and as the fabric slid over his skin, his breath sped up. His cock, flaccid moments before, began to fill from the purely tactile sensation. Warm chocolate brown eyes closed in pure hedonistic pleasure as the kimono engulfed his hairless body, touched him like gentle caresses from Asami. He leaned his head back and sighed. It had been so long since his boss laid hands on him in such an intimate manner, and truth was, he missed it. But in their late teens, Asami gave him the choice of being his assistant or to consummate their relationship and become lovers.

He took the only option that would keep him close to Asami permanently.

Suddenly, his mind connected the last few hours and he shivered, the terror coming back in full force. His legs gave out and he all but fell on the bed. Could Asami _really_ order his rape to prove his loyalty? _Would_ he, after all they'd been through?

_Maybe_.

Kei put his head in his hands and for the first time in many, many years, felt like weeping.

* * *

Aya had just finished cleaning up when a sharp knock on Kirishima's front door caused him to jump. He glanced down the hall toward the bedroom and wondered if he should bother Kirishima. But a key in the knob put to rest his indecision: there was only one person who would dare come into the assistant's home without an invitation.

Aya was caught up in the mesmerizing golden stare of the most powerful man he'd ever seen. His stomach flipped and he worried for a second about vomiting as the giant man who'd unlocked the door stepped back, allowing Asami access to Kei's home. Aya's breath stopped as Asami stepped into the living room, pausing as if he knew how incredible he was. To Aya, the large man looked like a samurai, a warrior out of the pages of a book or a painting, minus the topknot and swords.

He realized he was staring, getting even more sick at the thought of this man telling his owner about the severe breach of etiquette, and fell gracefully into a bow on the floor. He wished then he'd put the yukata back on instead of wearing the flimsy sarong he'd worn when waxing Kirishima; he felt completely naked and laid out in front of this man. He couldn't stop his body trembling from the fear of punishment, and Asami's continued silence made it much worse.

Suoh scowled down at the small, prostrated form, waiting for his boss to give him instruction on how to deal with the offense the little shit dealt. Asami caught Suoh's eye and shook his head. For the slave to not bow to him was a major lapse, but Asami could clearly see it was because the boy was in awe. The boy shook fairly hard under his gaze, no doubt aware sentence was being decided on. Asami toed off his sandals, letting the wait be Aya's punishment for forgetting his place.

"Aya-kun," Asami said, "where is my assistant?"

"I am here, Asami-sama," Kirishima called, coming out of the hallway.

Kei saw Aya on the floor, Suoh with a dark scowl on his face, and he worried about what occurred while he was indisposed. Asami noted Kei's raised brow with interest but didn't comment on it.

"You're ready," Asami commented upon giving Kirishima a once-over. "Good. We can leave now. Aya, gather your things and we'll return you to Yamamoto—"

"Uh—" Kirishima stuttered, surprised at his own boldness.

"Yes, Kei?" his boss inquired, enjoying his assistant's discomfort.

Kirishima shifted his weight. It was a slight movement but Asami's sharp eyes missed very little.

"Come," the larger man said, already moving toward the bedroom.

The door shut behind them, and he grew nervous when Asami gave him the piercing stare he reserved for those he interrogated.

"I would like Aya to stay here while we're gone," he said, lifting his chin to meet that cutting gaze.

If felt as if his very soul was being examined by his boss in the cool silence. And then the sensation passed as the man gave him a curt nod that spoke volumes. He would give Asami an accounting, but not here, not now. They returned to the living area where Suoh stood to the side with a resigned Aya, dressed again in the yukata with his bags packed.

"Change of plans," Asami stated. "Aya-kun, you will be staying here with Suoh until we return."

Asami gestured for Suoh to join him, away from Kei and Aya. Kirishima took the chance to speak with the young man.

"I expect you to take full advantage while you're here," he said. "Eat whatever you like. If what you want isn't here, tell Suoh-san and he will get it for you."

"I-I c-can't p-p-possibly take advantage of K-Kirishima-sama's k-kindness!" Aya stuttered miserably.

"You can and you will," he said sternly.

Aya's eyes widened at Kirishima's tone. It was the first time the man had taken a firm stance with him. Somehow, in the short time he'd known Asami's assistant, the big man had put him at ease, and he forgot what manner of person Kirishima was: like Asami, he expected orders to be obeyed.

"H-Hai Kirishima-sama," he said, staring at his feet.

Kirishima frowned. He could see he'd scared the boy. That wasn't his intention.

"Aya, listen to me," he said gently, continuing when he knew the adolescent was paying attention. "I have several younger brothers, and they would eat their weight at every meal when they were teenagers. You need to do that this week because you're too skinny. Do you understand?"

Aya nodded, relieved Kirishima wasn't really angry with him.

"I want you to sleep on my bed, as well. If I come back and hear you've been sleeping on the floor or on the couch, I will be disappointed. I want this week to be about you and getting your health back. Can you do these things for me?"

Aya nodded again, and Kirishima ruffled his hair.

"Good boy."

Kei turned to see Asami and Suoh watching the interaction, the latter with a sympathetic gleam in his eyes, and the former was riveted wholly on him. With that gaze, it was as if the whole world fell away, leaving only the two of them as the sole inhabitants.

Kirishima's gaze dropped first.

"Kei," Asami said finally, "it's time to go."

He swallowed and bowed to his boss. The problems concerning Aya were locked away, to be dealt with after his trial, and he pulled on a black trench coat over the immaculate kimono. With a backward glance and a small smile aimed at the teenager, the door to his home shut with a resounding thud.

* * *

"Who would have thought, the great Kirishima Kei has a soft heart for children in distress," Asami commented as they made their way to the waiting SUV.

Kirishima heard the gentle teasing in Asami's tone, knowing it wasn't meant as a criticism.

"I always see Daisuke or Kotsue in youngsters like Aya," he replied.

"Remember, Kei, we can't save them all."

Kirishima remained quiet until the elevator dinged at ground level.

"No, we can't, can we Asami-sama?"

The doors opened, and they walked to the black Mercedes. The man holding the back door open bowed to them both, and for a single heartbeat, Kirishima felt a bolt of intense, black jealousy. Asami shot him a thoughtful, sideways glance but nodded once in thanks to the doorman. Kirishima was waiting for Asami to enter the car first, a habit drilled into him since Asami's company had the expendable cash to afford armor-plated vehicles, but the larger man indicated he was to enter first.

Kirishima had to force his feet to remain planted where they were rather than take a step back, as his instincts were _screaming_ at him to do. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself if he began back-pedaling, and that wouldn't be a forgivable offense. He shut his eyes and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. Kirishima's body went into fight mode as arms came around his shoulders, but he couldn't maneuver, in part due to his panicking, in part due to his position.

"Kei," Asami called softly into his ear.

Some part of his mind recognized he wasn't in danger, and he relaxed into the steel-like arms. The warm, whiskey-and-cigarette scented breath stroked down Kirishima's neck, and his body came alive. Gooseflesh ran riot down his chest and back, hardening his nipples and causing his cock to twitch. He desperately wanted to lean against Asami's strong shoulder and forget about the upcoming week, the fight for Aya… just _everything_.

"Kei," Asami repeated, "nothing bad is going to happen to you, not while I'm here. Get in the car."

Kirishima felt Asami's fingers discreetly massaging the tense, tight muscles in his neck. Asami's broad back hid them from any of the other employees who might be watching, and he knew he needed to get control. He could lose respect in their eyes if he didn't put forth at least the _appearance_ of cool, calm authority. Kirishima tried to pull away, to stand up a bit straighter, but Asami held him fast. Hesitantly, he met Asami's golden eyes, clouded with concern.

"Thank you, Asami-sama," he whispered. "But I'm okay now."

Asami didn't look as if he believed him, but reluctantly released his assistant anyway. He stepped back enough to allow Kei to slip into the backseat. The larger man slid in next to him and the door shut with the tone of a death knell.


	3. Chapter 3

******Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder, and I do not make a profit off of anything I write pertaining to Viewfinder.  
Rating: NC-17  
Spoiler: None.  
Warning: Non-Con Slavery, Language, Adult Concepts, Sexual Situations, Non-Con Drug Use, etc.  
Pairing: Asami/Kirishima  
Summary: _To enter the inner sanctum of Asami's clan is a brutal, violent initiation and precious few survive the trial by fire. However, even among those men, Kirishima Kei is special._**

NOTE: Part 4 will be out next week. I have an event this weekend that I need to prepare for, so I won't be writing until then. Thanks for reading! :)******_  
_**

* * *

**Baptism By Fire Pt. 3**

Asami observed Kirishima with the watchful gaze of a predator as he pulled a blindfold out of his pocket.

"I know how this looks," Asami said soothingly, "but I promise it is not what you're thinking."

Kirishima sighed. It would be so easy for Asami to just make him disappear. He wouldn't have to go through everything he had. And Kei was tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. The constant state of heightened awareness had worn him down, and he was very close to finished with the day. So he reached up to take his glasses off as the SUV pulled away from his home—from relative safety—hands trembled as he folded them. Kirishima wasn't totally helpless without them. But that rule didn't apply to Asami. He blinked and ran a hand over his face, absently thinking he should have taken the time to shave.

Asami's body heat flooded his right side, and he nearly leaned into the man again. He, who had always taken the role of protector, found himself in the exceedingly uncomfortable position of needing protection. It repulsed him on the deepest levels, but something he buried long, long ago raised its head, roared for release. His breath hitched as Asami's strong fingers settled the blindfold across his near-useless eyes and tied it with great care, more care than Kei had ever seen him use on anyone. And that, more than Asami's words, comforted him. He knew Asami's ways, his techniques for inspiring fear (as well as he knew his own); the man was going out of his way to make sure he didn't associate his experience with the terror tactics they used to get information, or the sentencing of someone to death.

He relaxed back into the seat, noting with no small amount of interest that Asami remained where he was, their legs touching. To occupy his perpetually active mind, he tried to keep track of the twists and turns, attempting to figure out where they were going.

"Would you like a cigarette, Kei?"

He smirked. Thus the game began. Asami knew him too damned well.

"Yes, please, Asami-sama," he replied, still tracking their progress.

The scent of freshly lit Dunhill filled the cab, and he lost his breath again as Asami's fingers stroked down his hand, picked it up in his own and placed it between his index and middle fingers. Kei brought it to his lips, wrapped them around the damp filter—_an indirect kiss,_ that insidious creature he'd subdued so many years ago whispered—and took a deep drag off the high quality cigarette. The nicotine hit his system hard, and he got dizzy for a few seconds, enjoying the oddly pleasant feeling.

The SUV turned left, and he muttered a curse under his breath at being distracted. Asami's amused chuckle followed quickly. Damn the man. Okay. He could figure it out. He took another drag, waiting for the vehicle to either remain on its trajectory or turn right. And when it continued on longer than it should, he smiled triumphantly.

"Do you know where we are?"

"12th Avenue," he said confidently.

"I'm impressed," the smooth voice commended, sending an answering rush of heat to his groin. What was it about pleasing Asami that was more addictive than any drug he'd ever taken?

"Thank you, sir," he murmured quietly.

They hadn't spoken in a while when the car turned right and it seemed to Kirishima that the driver turned around. They stopped, and then made a left turn. Kirishima's brow furrowed when the car hit a dirt road. Shit. He was off somehow and had absolutely no clue where they were.

"We're almost there," Asami whispered in his ear, causing Kei to jump.

He shifted in the warm seat and shivered when Asami ran his fingers down his hand, placing another cigarette (when did he light it?) between his fingers. Kei figured he was about halfway done with it when the SUV pulled to a stop. His sense of time and direction was all screwed up, so instead of expending energy he'd soon need with trying to figure it out, he allowed himself to be led. Kei often meditated, so being still wasn't the issue: his mind refused to give in. The first few minutes his mind struggled, but by the time Asami aided him out of the car, he was at relative peace.

Kei assumed the arm that came around his shoulders was Asami's as he was guided into the structure. He heard the shouji close behind him with a soft hiss, and try as he might, he couldn't stop the horrible shaking that seized him. The rustling of fabric was quite loud in the unnatural silence, and he remained so, unwilling to break the fragile calm. He was led into what he assumed was a smaller room and released as the man shut the shouji shut behind them. From behind, hands slipped his coat from his shoulders and gooseflesh again ran riot over his whole body. He heard coats behind hung somewhere close by but he remained where he'd been placed, awaiting instruction.

A lighter flicked on. The acrid scent of Dunhill oozed into the space. Asami.

Neither spoke for several minutes as he listened to his boss smoke.

"You would go to your death without a fight," Asami stated.

Something fundamental had changed in that voice which Kirishima couldn't put his finger on. The air between them was charged, much like the coming of a storm, and he could almost taste the ozone in the back of his throat.

"For you, yes," he stated.

Another long silence, and then: "Why, Kei?"

"I believe in you," Kirishima replied and dipped his head.

"Sit down where you're at," Asami said. "Be careful. There's a table in front of you."

He obeyed and heard Asami kneel opposite him.

"Are you hungry?"

Was he? His stomach was in knots, and the thought of food was unappealing. As he was about to answer in the negative, his stomach growled loudly. He cleared his throat, knowing his cheeks were actually turning _red_.

"Let me rephrase that," Asami said. "Dinner will be served soon."

Kirishima heard the soft footfalls—women, two of them carrying…something—that anyone else would have missed. However, he had skills (perhaps deeply ingrained habits that would forever be fused in his neural net) acquired from the last twenty-three years with his partner in crime. They came in and set the trays (mid-to-high quality crystal) down with one set of chopsticks. With a word from Asami they left, leaving them alone once more.

More rustling, and then: "Kei, open your mouth."

Butterflies swarmed in his stomach as he obeyed. Promptly, the buttery, rich texture of raw salmon paired with a small bite of rice exploded over his tongue. He didn't give into the desire to groan but a sigh did sneak out as he chewed. Never in a million years would he have guessed Asami'd be feeding him. It seemed such a personal act, being fed, but if it pleased him, Kei would submit to the treatment. At some point during the quiet meal, Kei started to feel like a treasured pet in the way he was being regarded. It was frustrating, to say the least. He didn't need special treatment to know how integral to Asami's world he was.

After he swallowed one of the pieces, his lips started tingling, and he smirked.

"Fugu, ne?"

Asami chuckled. "Indeed. I knew you would appreciate the experience."

A gentle lilt to Asami's voice threw Kirishima off balance and had him focusing more of his attention on the food. At that point, he was glad to have the blindfold on so he couldn't see the intense look he knew was there carved into his boss' stone-like features. The feeding continued until he hesitated in taking one of the offered rolls, and within moments, the two women were back to take the trays. He was full, but not so full that he felt sick.

They each had another cigarette in companionable silence as Kei reflected on his growing enjoyment of Asami's soft touches to get the Dunhill in his hand. It was a good thing he was blindfolded, Kirishima finally determined.

"It's late," the strong voice appeared out of nowhere. "Are you ready to retire?"

"I am, Asami-sama," he replied but made no move to rise, waiting for Asami's direction.

"Stand, then, and we'll go."

Kirishima rose with an unconscious grace not lost on Asami and stood with his hands loosely clasped in front of him. His trench was maneuvered back onto his person, and they went out a different door than they'd entered. As far as Kirishima could tell, they were at the back of the establishment, and he was led through the cooling evening until Asami halted his progress.

"There are forty-one steps, including the top one," Asami explained and didn't release him until both were sure he had a firm grip on the handrail.

As they ascended, the stairs grew rickety as they spiraled to the left. Kei sensed a solid formation to their left, and he assumed the stairs climbed around a rockface. Asami remained a constant at his side, even though his was confident in his footing. _Great,_ he thought, _no one will be able to hear me scream._ As they reached the top, he heard another set of footsteps mount the stairs at the bottom. His heart lurched. What the hell was happening?

Thirty-nine. Forty.

"One more step," Asami commented, taking his right elbow again.

They were on a short stone pathway and within moments—he counted to nine—he was helped up two more steps, onto what sounded like a porch under his feet. They were overtaken by the person following, and this time, Asami didn't open the shouji. He was guided in after they'd both toed off their shoes, and Kei sighed in the waves of warmth; someone prepared their quarters for them. He heard another tray being set down but was too rattled to even speculate about it. The shouji shut once again, and he sensed they were alone. Asami divested him of his coat and hung both of them next to the door, or so he assumed.

"You may sit down there, Kei. Careful. There is a brazier in the table."

Not unusual for the cool autumn nights. He sat and pulled the quilt up over his longish legs, rumbling softly in contentment. Whatever hell he was going to be put through, it seemed Asami was generous enough to give him temporary respite.

Ice hit glass as Asami made drinks, and Kei waited patiently. He could run a monastery with the patience training he was receiving, he mused. In less time than expected, Asami set a glass down in front of him and gave him another cigarette, the touches from the other man's battle-hardened hands waking his cock. Kei bit off the noise wanting to escape and hit his growing desire by taking a long drag. Cautiously, he found the glass and lifted it to his parched lips. Water. Not a good sign.

"You'll need to be hydrated for tomorrow," Asami said casually, taking a drink himself.

Yeah, not a good sign at all. With a deep breath, he downed the glass, and as soon as it was empty, Asami filled it.

"I want you to know, Kei, I'm not going to damage you."

"Damage me, Asami-sama?"

"Yes, like I have the others," the other clarified, snuffing the cigarette. "You are invaluable to me whole, so you will remain as such. I thought it would help ease your mind somewhat."

"Th-Thank you, Asami-sama," he stuttered and downed the second glass of water.

"You're welcome."

Was that _amusement_ he heard? Thrice damned man.

"What have you heard about this?" Asami asked. Kirishima had been with Asami so long he could hear the guardedness, though anyone else—even Suoh—wouldn't have.

"Uh, well," he said, then cleared his throat. "Bad things, to be honest. The most disturbing was Fujiwara's loss of leg from the knee down."

"An accident, I assure you," Asami said as Kei paused.

"I haven't seen him since the night he left for…"

…_this trial,_ floated uncomfortably in the air between them.

"I moved him to the Osaka office," his boss muttered, distractedly to Kei's trained ear.

"A-Asami-sama, you don't owe me an explanation."

"Kei," he chided, "you of all my employees have the right to ask questions of me."

Kirishima felt a huge yawn coming on and savagely attempted to suppress it as he replied: "You honor me, sir—"

And that was all he got out before the yawn broke out over his face, right along with a bright red blush. Before he finished yawning, he started moving to bow to Asami, but Asami knew the way Kirishima's mind worked.

"Kei, don't bow," he said gently. "Don't apologize. You've had a rough day. Perhaps we should prepare to sleep. You'll need as much sleep as possible for tomorrow."

"Hai, Asami-sama."

The glasses were removed from the table, and he heard Asami walk around to his side of the table.

"Stand, please."

Kei obeyed, wondering if Asami would remove the blindfold now that they were getting ready for bed. He was steered toward what he thought was the washroom, and once there, Asami placed a toothbrush in his hand. So he wasn't going to remove it.

Fuck.

Kei leaned over the sink to make sure he didn't make a mess. He completed the task as quickly as he could without doing a poor job, fervently praying to the gods of old criminals that Asami would allow him to take the blindfold off to piss.

"Done?"

He nodded, afraid to speak. Even as he was trying to figure a way out of his potential predicament, the back of his mind registered the fact that he was unusually tired.

"Is there anything else you need while we're in here?"

Asami's warm breath traveled down his neck and brought the small hairs still covering his nape to attention.

"U-Uh, m-may I please rem-remove—"

"No."

Kei inhaled sharply. "I-I um… need…"

He was so horrified he couldn't get the words out around the trembling.

Asami allowed the tension to draw out before saying: "Do you need to piss?"

Kirishima nodded once, mortified. He felt more than heard Asami move up behind him and take his shoulders in hand. Kei suppressed the instinctual desire to fight, and Asami waited until it passed before steering him to stand in front of the toilet. The hands gave a quick squeeze he knew was meant to reassure, but he couldn't stop the tremors wracking his body.

And Asami wasn't waiting for him to get control. The hand on his right moved down over the silk fabric, leaving a trail of fire that dove straight to his groin as it went. _Gods! Not now! Not now!_ he chanted in his head, tensing.

"Relax, Kei," Asami breathed against his neck, exciting him further. "I'm not going to shoot you."

_Oh please do,_ he begged silently.

Asami's hand slithered between the folds of kimono fabric, and Kirishima almost let out a yelp as warmth engulfed his cock. He couldn't contain the jerk of his body against Asami, though, and having known the man for so long, Kei knew he was amused at his prudish behavior. The cool air hit the sensitive skin of his penis as Asami positioned the head to hit the back of the porcelain bowl. He pushed aside the fact that his boss was helping him perform an act no one had helped him with in several decades and focused on relaxing those muscles which would allow the stream of urine to start; the sooner accomplished, the better.

He closed his eyes behind the blindfold as he let go and pissed, doing his best to ignore another man's hand on his junk while he did so. Thankfully, it went quickly. He shot a smirk over his shoulder when Asami shook the dribbles off.

"Do I need to wipe it off Kei?" The tone was playful… almost.

_Fuck you, sir,_ he thought at the larger man while stifling another yawn. The hands were back on his shoulders and steered him back toward the main room, or so he assumed. His heart stuttered as a wave of exhaustion barreled through him like a shotgun slug, causing him to stumble against the wall of pure muscle that was Asami's chest. Arms like steel bands came around him, stabilizing him as he found his legs again, but he couldn't stand fully without leaning on his boss.

_What the fuck!_

And it hit him with close to the same force: Asami had _drugged_ him. He gasped and clutched at Asami's kimono, unable to do much else. He could try to escape, but in reality, how far would he get before the chemical circulated, knocking him completely out? Too many times he'd seen others in his position, and the lengths they would go to in their adrenaline-induced panic always made him grateful it wasn't him. He forced the panic down, so he could retain what was left of his dignity.

"_Wh-Why?"_ he implored, his voice frightened even to his own ears.

"You need to sleep," Asami explained gently. "I'm just making sure you do. You'll wake up tomorrow morning, Kei."

He was led, stumbling… somewhere in the same room, or so he thought. He was too entangled in the chaos of his mind to really put forth the effort to figure it out. Asami laid him carefully down on a futon, and by then, his body wouldn't respond at all.

A hazy, lethargic peace stole through him as he felt Asami's hand brush through his hair in a curiously tender gesture that made his heart beat just a little faster.

And then he fell unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

******Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder, and I do not make a profit off of anything I write pertaining to Viewfinder.  
Rating: NC-17  
Spoiler: None.  
Warning: Non-Con Slavery, Homeless Teenagers, Language, Adult Concepts, Sexual Situations, Non-Con Drug Use, etc.  
Pairing: Asami/Kirishima  
Summary: _To enter the inner sanctum of Asami's clan is a brutal, violent initiation and precious few survive the trial by fire. However, even among those men, Kirishima Kei is special._**

* * *

**Baptism By Fire Pt. 4**

Morning came and with it, Kei's missing consciousness was found. The silky sheets glided over his very hairless and very naked body, sending erotic threads caressing over his skin. His head lolled as he groaned deeply, and he just knew his damned erection would have a bit of difficulty deflating without a little help. He opened eyes free of the restrictive blindfold and indulged in a bone-popping stretch. From what he could make out without his glasses and what his senses told him, he was alone. For the moment, anyway, a fact he was grateful for. He got up and made his way to the washroom once more, his bladder protesting greatly from the amount of water he'd consumed some hours before.

As a general rule, Kei wasn't body shy, but somehow, Asami managed to evoke all those dark, cruel insecurities he'd felt as a gangly teen. Making sure the toilet lid was up, he took his engorged flesh in hand and gave a first long, firm stroke, shaking at the deeply buried fantasy of Asami's muscular hand taking control of him, rather than his own slender fingers, far more suited for calculator pads than wielding a katana. Or so it was, in his own estimation. His cock grew harder in his hand, though he didn't know how, and as he manipulated it, he fought to keep the noises wanting to burst from his chest in check. He couldn't stop panting and had to brace himself against the wall as his knees shook slightly.

"Goooods," he moaned as his testicles drew up and ropes of ejaculate plunged into the bowl with broken splashes. _Christ! _He hadn't come that quickly in many years, since the last time he allowed himself to think about Asami while masturbating!

The front shouji slid open and Kei's head swiveled to and fro in panicked confusion. He took a swift breath and shut the door, in case it wasn't Asami. Because if it was Asami, there was no doubt in Kei's mind he wouldn't be able to stop the man from coming into the washroom to help him piss again, if that's what he wanted to do. Soft footfalls ended at the closed door.

"Kei? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Asami-sama," he replied, relieved it was his boss. There was hesitation, but then Asami moved back into the main room.

Kei was so relieved, his knees grew more watery, and by this time, his erection had gone down enough that he could pee. That made it somewhat difficult to stand while he emptied his bladder, but he was still thankful for the reprieve. He brushed his teeth quickly too while he had a moment to himself. _No sense in being tortured with morning mouth, _he thought wryly. Feeling a bit more together, he opened the door to the most divine smells: miso, egg and rice rolls, vegetables… _and sausage biscuits from McDonald's?_ He almost laughed. Sometimes, (okay, it was _rare_) Asami could be considerate.

The scent dragged him back into their shared past…

* * *

_He couldn't see past his nose in the darkness of the alleyway, but he felt the younger boy's body heat directly behind him as they did their best to blend with the shadows. And at this point, they were fairly adept. He heard Ryuichi's labored breathing and knew he had to look at the injuries soon. But they were both starving, having had their last few mouthfuls of food many hours prior, and neither could go much farther without what the dumpster at the back of the fast food chain offered._

_Ryuichi slipped ahead of him, favoring his right leg, and he followed, more to reassure himself than driven by the constant ache in his stomach. The boys stopped at the metal container, looked around for prying eyes and surveillance equipment, and upon seeing nothing, Kei hefted Ryuichi over the rim before hopping in after. He pulled a small flashlight out and turned it on to examine the younger boy's injuries since he heard him land with a pained grunt._

"_Put that away!" Asami snapped when the beam roved over his grey-toned face._

"_No!" he snarled back. "I've got to check your leg. It's bad this time."_

_The boy sulked but didn't attempt to fight when Kei pulled the slash in the jeans he'd made earlier open. The bullet grazed the fleshy part of his upper thigh, and it was seeping again, though not as badly._

"_I need to stitch it when we get back," he stated, handing the flashlight to the fifteen-year-old. "Here. Look for food, and I'll put pressure on it."_

_Ryuichi grunted again but managed to not scream as Kei did so. When his head stopped spinning, he searched the area for rolled up bags, an indicator the food inside might still be safe to eat. He found one he had to stretch for, whimpering a little when the angle torqued his leg, but grabbed the crumpled thing and brought it close. They found two more, and when Kei was satisfied the blood was staunched for the time being, Ryuichi dug in while Kei continued to hunt._

_The first was nothing but wadded up wrappers, so they tossed it. The second had a half-eaten container of cold fries they scarfed as fast as they could. The third—Kei would remember that night, that moment for the rest of his life—held seven sausage biscuits. The boys stared at each other in awe._

"_No way!" he whispered to Ryuichi. "Someone didn't just throw these out!"_

"_They must be leftovers from breakfast they didn't sell. Where'd you find them?"_

"_Here," he said, shifting so he could look through the garbage again._

_Laughing quietly after finding four more bags with at least a dozen of the biscuits in each, they settled in to stuff themselves. As their gorging reached its end, Ryuichi leaned back against the cool metal and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket._

"_Where'd you get those?" he asked, taking the cigarette offered._

"_From the guy I shot," the younger boy replied and read the name off the pack. "Huh. Dunhill."_

"_Aren't those supposed to be fancy or something?"_

_Ryuichi shrugged as they lit up. "Who cares? As long as it smokes, I don't."_

_They froze as a car drove by. When they were sure it was gone, Asami's young face grew hard._

"_Someday, Kei, you and I will have enough to buy this food chain."_

"_Hm, well, working a franchise will—"_

"_That's not what I mean, Kei," the young Asami said, gold eyes illuminated eerily in the half-light._

_Kirishima Kei was creeped out by the intensity behind the other boy's words, in spite of the amused smirk gracing the angular mouth of his younger friend. If anyone on the streets had the ability and sheer drive to accomplish what Ryuichi so arrogantly stated, it was he. Kei knew it. A shutter slammed down over Ryuichi's expression, the boy's face a smooth sheet of light beige marble as they regarded one another. He was going on two years older than the injured teen, but moments like this, Kei could see the adult, poised to take control when the situation warranted._

"_Now is the time for you to stop," Ryuichi continued. "Now I can still guarantee your safety if you walk away."_

_Kei shivered at the ominous tone. Guarantee my safety…?_

"_You can walk away—" Ryuichi repeated._

"_But I'm not going to," he interrupted. "I'm yours, good or bad…"_

* * *

Kei inhaled sharply, the scent of food permeating the small room, and Asami's golden eyes were riveted on him.

"Kei?"

He shook his head slightly with a crooked smile. "I'm fine. It took me back for a moment."

"Hn. Come and eat then, before it gets cold."

He sat opposite Asami, and they raised their miso bowls.

"Itadakimasu," each said.

Kei waited until Asami drank first before letting the warm, salty broth roll over his tongue and slide down his throat, sighing in contentment at the heat in his belly. They ate in a less tense silence than the previous evening, and Kei mentally acknowledged it was probably due to him not knowing what to expect. They each took a sausage biscuit, sharing a smirk, and partook together of the greasy fast food. These days, Krishima hardly ever ate unhealthy foods thanks to his personal chef and the fact he had to remain in peak physical condition. But it was nice to share the moment with Ryuichi.

And then something occurred to him: Asami hadn't called him by his surname since the whole cursed thing began.

Kei looked at Asami and his breath caught; the intense scrutiny made his stomach muscles clench, and he hoped his boss didn't notice the fit of trembling. Calling him by his given name, hours of being blindfolded, sharing the same meal they'd had when Asami made the decision to become one of the lords of Tokyo… what web was the man weaving?

Even as a teenager, Kirishima recognized how highly intelligent Asami was, even then. The man sitting before him devoured languages like he did his rivals, speaking all but English without an accent, or so their foreign contacts had all let slip during periods of great inebriation. Few could match his skills in Chess and Go, much less defeat him, and that strategic planning was what finally, at the tender age of nineteen, set Asami up in Tokyo Prefecture as The Force to be reckoned with.

* * *

_Kei saw Asami press the barrel of the revolver into the soft indentation at the nape of Tokugawa's neck, along with all of the men Asami bribed, threatened or otherwise wrested from his mentor's control. They had stepped forward, a gun trained on each of the major players' skulls sitting at the negotiation table. Kei retreated several steps, shock coursing through his body._

_Why did Ryuichi bring him? was the only coherent thought in his head._

"_You—You little shit!" Tokugawa sputtered when the older man realized what had happened._

_Asami lit a Dunhill (menthol by scent) and blew out a cloud of noxious smoke._

"_Sensei, thank you for doing your best," the youngster said._

_Until that moment, Kei thought he had something to offer Ryuichi. Obviously, there were things Ryuichi—no, Asami—had kept from him._

"_But as you can see, your services are no longer needed," Asami said and pulled the trigger._

_In the aftermath, Kirishima looked on in horror as the man to Asami's immediate right turned the gun on his would-be boss. He remembered nothing but drawing the gun at his back, and when he came to, one more body was added to the count._

_Mere hours after, ink ran like blood. All of the newspapers across Japan were spattered with large headlines announcing the mass execution of the bosses of the three largest crime syndicates with their second-in-commands._

* * *

Kei started as Asami's warm hand touched his own, ripping him from that fateful night.

"I must not be taking care of my assistant very well," the larger man stated, amusement dripping from each word. "Where did you go?"

"Back," Kei replied, running a shaking hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "Back to that night…"

"Ah," his boss murmured, sat back and pulled two cigarettes from the fresh pack.

He lit one and offered it to Kirishima. Relieved to be distracted, Kei took a drag as Asami lit his own.

As hard as he tried to rest his mind, it continued to plug away, fitting the puzzle pieces together again and again until he was on the edge of mental exhaustion. The beginnings of a migraine tugged at the bridge of his nose, and he pinched it, then rubbed. There was something significant happening, and damn Asami, he couldn't figure out what.

Inside he jumped as the other cleared the remnants of their meal. He started to help but Asami batted his hands away, shaking his head.

"You're looking stressed," Asami commented nonchalantly as he transferred the tray to someone beyond his line of sight.

He tensed and knew the other man was aware of it. How did one (diplomatically) explain to one's boss that it was his over large presence causing said tension? That seemed like an invitation for a bullet to the head. _Or maybe something uncomfortably huge shoved up my ass, _he thought facetiously, smirk plastered on his face. Then it faded. No… he wouldn't.

Would he?

"Kei," the deep voice said from directly behind him, causing him to start again and hit his knee on the low table with a grunt.

Asami must think he was losing his mind. Maybe he was.

"Stand up," Asami commanded.

Kei did so, squinting at the bright morning sun streaming through the windows, and suddenly the other man was looming before him.

"I think you're entirely too nervous. Shall we get this over with?"

"Hai, Asami-sa—"

Kei's world reeled as the other's thick hand wrapped around his throat, minimizing his ability to breathe, and he was pushed backward until his back hit one of the walls. Asami's relentless mouth fell onto his in a soul-ravaging kiss as he instinctively struggled, fearing for his life. But it was a vain action. Asami's more massive body pinned him against the sheetrock, the decorative peaks of paint dug mercilessly into his back, gouging and tearing at his unprotected skin. He whimpered at the penetration both from Asami's demanding tongue and several sharper points from the wall, but the soft noise only seemed to spur the devil on. He hissed in pain as a nibble turned into a rough nip, and he tasted blood.

Asami pulled back, giving him scant centimeters to maneuver, and Kei was mesmerized by the crimson glittering on the taller man's full lips. Their eyes met but before Kei could process what just happened, Asami's warm tongue laved over his lips, sending lightning through his naked body and brought the desire crawling beneath the surface out. His cock was already hard once more, though he didn't have the presence of mind to be embarrassed, he was so far gone.

"There's a look I've not seen on you," Asami said, voice husky and low. "Your eyes liquid with need. Your legs trembling so hard you can't stand."


	5. Chapter 5

******Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder, and I do not make a profit off of anything I write pertaining to Viewfinder.  
Rating: NC-17  
Spoiler: None.  
Warning: Non-Con Slavery, Language, Blood Play, Adult Concepts, Sexual Situations, ****etc.  
Pairing: Asami/Kirishima  
Summary: _To enter the inner sanctum of Asami's clan is a brutal, violent initiation and precious few survive the trial by fire. However, even among those men, Kirishima Kei is special._**

* * *

**Baptism By Fire Pt. 5**

Kei heard the throaty moan torn from his chest as Asami traced the shaft of his neck down from his lightly stubbled jaw to one of his nipples. The tip of the finger was barely brushing against the hardened pebble but it felt oh so damned good! Their gazes were locked, Kei hypnotized by the predatory hunger etched deeply in the harsh lines of his boss' face. _Wait!_ His eyes grew impossibly large with the sudden realization that it was _Asami Ryuichi_ dragging this feeling out of him.

"No!" he cried and attempted to wrench away from the man.

But even before he moved, it was over. One of those large hands fisted in his hair and spun him around with one arm ratcheted up behind his back, subduing him against the wall. He didn't dare move, scarcely breathe, highly aware of the great amount of pain he'd be in if Asami chose to lift his arm a scant centimeter more. As if reading his mind, Asami carefully lifted that arm just enough so it started to burn, right on the edge of pain.

"Don't fight me, Kei," the sensual whisper caressed over his ear. "You _will_ lose."

"A-Asami-s-sama," he stuttered, whole body trembling in atavistic fear. "I-I don't unders-stand."

His scalp tingled when he was released, and he nearly fought again out of shock when that same hand gently carded through his hair the same way his mother had when he was much, much younger. Asami was the only person he shared such a deep secret with when they were adolescents—Asami thirteen, and he a mere fifteen. They hadn't spoken of it since. _How dare he use such a thing against him! How dare he!_ Kei choked on a sob, from rage or longing or some other emotion entirely, he couldn't sort out. All strength seeped out of him, and he would have fallen if Asami's body hadn't been plastered to his. Every ripple of every muscle played out across his back, and the thick erection took up residence, uninvited, between his ass cheeks. Kei whimpered softly, suddenly quite afraid of this stranger he'd known for two decades.

"Shh, I know you're confused," Asami murmured, nuzzling behind his ear. Where the tip of his nose went, soft kisses followed.

"I know you're afraid," he continued, his free hand trailing down over his neck, his shoulder, gentle touches down his ribs and hip.

Kei felt Asami press closer, crowding him, and he tensed more, an inaudible sound of distress escaping as tears slid down his cheeks in near silence.

"I swear I'm not going to harm you," Asami whispered against his shoulder and rubbed his own stubble ridden cheek over Kei's roped muscle. "And I would never allow anyone else to harm you. Not now. Not _ever_."

Kei froze as Asami's hand began massaging the tight muscle of his ass cheek, widening his stance a fraction in unconscious invitation. He was bereft when the hand was removed, his body attempting to follow, but soon it returned; he gasped when Asami parted his ass and one finger, slicked with lube, slid into his body up to the knuckle. He struggled in Asami's grip until Asami pressed him into the wall with his forearm across his back, compressing Kei's lungs so he had to breathe shallowly. All the while, Asami's finger claimed him, and the strange sensation transformed into something… oddly pleasurable. Another finger joined the first and Kei gasped again, then held his breath as pain washed over him.

"You need to breathe so the pain lessens," Asami instructed.

He drew a shuddering breath in and unconsciously held it again, and took another when he realized he was still holding it. The burning as Asami maneuvered his fingers in and out of his body began to dull as oxygen circulated in his bloodstream, and he started to relax around them. For the first time in many years, Kei's mind went blank as the third finger was added, and he cried out. A small part of him not caught in the animalistic ritual of copulation acknowledged it was about to get worse—much worse. And the dominant male about to mount him wouldn't stop, not for tears, not for pleas, not for the pain he would cause, and not for the blood he would inevitably claim. The fingers were removed after a few thrusts, and Kei leaned his forehead on the wall, wondering if he would survive this cruel and unusual punishment. The blunt head of Asami's cock nudged into the unprotected opening of his ass, and his whole being went rigid and very, very still.

"Kei, you _must_ relax," he growled, "or I'm going to hurt you."

_Okayokayokay,_ he repeated in his head. _He doesn't _want_ to hurt me, but Christ, he'll only wait so long. Shit! Relax Kei!_

He felt Asami take a deep breath from his gut and release it, becoming an unmovable, solid foundation. Asami's left hand snaked up his arm, wrenching his panicked mind from what was about to happen, giving him something else to focus on in the tense moment. Long, sure fingers gently pried apart his sweaty fist and entangled in his own. He swiveled his head enough so he could see their hands entwined, together, and it hit him like a lightning bolt. This trial wasn't just about him—it was about Ryuichi as well. _Them._ He glanced over his other shoulder and saw the harsh lines soften on Asami's face. He wasn't ready, not by far, but he wasn't _alone_. He was safe. The fear drained out of him, like someone had pulled a plug bottling it in his soul, and he squeezed his boss' hand back. He would submit without a fight.

The slick cock poised at his trembling entrance began its slow, steady acquisition of Kei's body, the thick shaft disappearing as it sank into the hungry virgin flesh. Kei's eyes flew open, his mouth dropped in a silent scream as the burn turned into a raging fire through the nerves in his groin. He'd been shot before, more than once, and he fleetingly wondered if it weren't the lesser of the two evils as Asami's hips met his ass. Somewhere along the ordeal of being penetrated, he started panting and only when he was completely filled, did he rest his forehead again on the wall, releasing a shaky, guttural groan. He may have had a dick up his ass, but he would damn well take it like the man he was.

He felt Asami's whole body shaking violently, and to Kei, it was the first mistake he'd made in a long time: he shifted his weight, concerned about his boss, and attempted to make eye contact. He was shoved into the wall with Asami blanketing him from behind, the chest hard and broad, definitely broader than his own.

"Don't. Move."

The low growl vibrating through Asami's chest was unlike anything he'd ever experienced from the man, and he shied away from the deadly aura pulsing around him, all the remaining hairs on his body standing on end. With the slight movement, Asami snarled, more animal than man, and driven by raging instinct, sank his teeth into the fragile skin so very close to Kei's throat to keep him still. He whimpered but didn't move a muscle, pain in his ass forgotten, as the strong jaw clamped shut, breaking skin and bringing his life force boiling to the surface.

Asami's free arm came around his waist and drew them together tightly. This Asami he'd only caught glimpses of (only he and maybe Suoh were allowed anywhere near), in the heartbeat before the door to the torture room shut and their eyes locked. Kirishima always felt a small amount of pity for the fools greedy or stupid enough to evoke the predator in Ryuichi, though it happened less and less often as crudely stripped bones and fleshy matter was found for days after the men's disappearances. His boss had risen to become a kind of bogeyman in Japan's underworld, and now he had an idea of why.

What else didn't he know?

It was after the fact that he felt the cool trails down his balls where warm dribbles of piss leaked from his flaccid dick, the absolute terror of being devoured alive, quite possibly in the literal sense, ruthlessly stealing whatever amount of pleasure he'd derived from Asami's touch. He wasn't ashamed in the least of the primal display of submission. He tended toward a quiet dominance himself, but in this hierarchy, his brain as well as his body took no issue with acknowledging the victor between them. However, he'd be lying to himself if he didn't revel in the fact that Asami spared his shattered pride and ordered no one else to attend.

He cried out as the teeth released his mangled flesh, but didn't dare so much as breathe as a warm, wet tongue laved over the wound that would most likely scar. His eyes closed, and a moan from deep inside was birthed into the morning sunlight cascading into the room as he felt Asami's mouth latch onto the wound and suckle, drawing deep crimson blood from the damaged veins. A different kind of fire kindled in his belly and spread rapidly to the delicate flesh housing Asami's cock. It flowed into his limbs, making them liquid, and with the scent of blood growing heavy in the air, his cock responded again. As Asami drank, the man's hand released his left one and skimmed over his sensitized body, caressed over his testicles and… _oh shit_.

The hand gently engulfed his sac, and Kei tensed, his awareness heightened as he listened for Asami's response (thankfully, the man _never_ reacted). A final lick over the bite had Kei shuddering, and he released a low groan. Asami positioned himself so Kei could see his face and waited. Kei knew his boss was waiting for him to make eye contact, but now that the moment had come, he wasn't sure he could. He swallowed, hard, his gaze boring a hole in the off-white pain spattered with his own blood from where the sharp peaks pierced his back. His breath hitched as Asami dragged his fingers lightly over the delicate skin of his balls and raised the glistening digits to his eye level, still patient with his physically smaller assistant.

Kei forced himself to meet Asami's eyes, shocked for a moment that they were pure black with a paper-thin corona of amber in the bright sunlight. This man was undeniably feral, down to the cellular level; of that, Kei had no doubt now. And that also meant he had nothing to fear. The realization had the tension vacating once more. Permanently. He risked a quick glance at Asami's urine-coated hand, with drops rolling down his arm by this time, and as he looked back, he felt the blush rise on his cheeks. He opened his mouth to explain, but Asami cut him off.

"This," he began, indicating the piss on his hand, "is the most beautiful expression of dedication and loyalty I've ever received. That it came from you, Kirishima Kei, makes it the most precious gift I've been given as well. You honor me, and I will _never_ forget it."

Kei was struck dumb. Asami didn't waste words on anyone: what he said, he _meant_. He gasped as Asami pulled out of him, and turned him so they were facing each other. With Asami's declaration still hanging in the air between them, Kei suddenly grew shy and unconsciously, he clasped his hands in front of his cock, looked down and away. Asami's hand slipped under his chin and raised his head up so they were looking at each other again. The emotions very few were ever allowed to catch the ghosts of were smoldering unfettered in the gold eyes that were mostly pupil. Unnamable ones Kei hadn't seen Asami express: determination, possession, and was he actually seeing _love_?

They were gone, from one blink to the next, but damnit, they were there. Asami leaned down and nuzzled the side of his nose. If Kei didn't know better, he would call the action 'affectionate'. Everything inside of him roared, and without thinking, he responded, nuzzling down the masculine face, the implacable jaw. He rubbed his cheek against Asami's solid jawbone like a cat and just for that moment, Kei allowed all of his feelings to be laid bare. He knew Asami wouldn't outright reject him. But they could never be lovers, no matter how much either wanted it.

He was still lost in thought when Asami claimed his lips in a non-aggressive kiss. Asami coaxed him to open his mouth, seducing him with tender touches, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand. His knees went weak, and he reached out, grabbing onto the lapels of Asami's open kimono as he took a step forward, a bit surprised he'd been able to keep it on through their activities. Asami released a soft grunt of approval at Kei's willingness to come to him, the sound sending shivers through him. Kei groaned when Asami's steel-like arm wrapped around his waist, and his other hand encircled his cock, beginning to fill. With Asami's hand teasing it, blood rushed into it, growing painfully hard in a matter of minutes.

"_Oh gods,"_ he murmured against Asami's lips as he started thrusting into the merciless hand. "Pl-Please, Asami-s-sama."

"Please what, Kei?"

Asami was amused as he continued to torture Kei's dick, barely letting his fingertips caress the engorged flesh as he rubbed precome over the head and down the underside. Kei was shaking so hard he couldn't speak. He wanted release, and if that meant Asami entering him again, he was fine with that in the state he was in.

"C-Can't t-talk s-sir, _please_," he wailed, laying his head on Asami's chest.

He whined, loudly, when the hand and its erotic ministrations disappeared from his groin, but he knew better than to complain. Relief flooded him when Asami led him to the area he assumed they ate, but where the table used to be was a pile of blankets and pillows.

"Down, on your hands and knees," came the command.

He obeyed, shivering a bit in apprehension when the other man didn't join him right away. He heard Asami move next to him and kneel. Hands were laid gently on him, and he leaned into their warmth as Asami stroked the length of his back, down to his ass.

"Are you warm?" the deep voice asked, hands kneading his ass.

"H-Hai, Asami-sama."

"Mmh, good," was the reply as Kei felt Asami crawl over him, licking up his back as he moved.

He froze when teeth nipped his nape, a little nervous about being taken harshly, but Asami didn't bite him, nor did he thrust in. As Asami made his way back toward his ass, he looked over his shoulder, completely unaware of the sexual energy he exuded with the wound at his neck turning deep blues and purples and crimson trails drying down his back. He felt Asami shudder as the larger man positioned himself, preparing his cock for penetration. Since he knew what to expect, Kei didn't tense as much as he did the first time Asami's cock slid deep. This time, the burning was at a minimum as he breathed through the rough moments, and the other man paused in his claiming while Kei got control. Asami covered him again, the feeling of being cocooned in their combined body heat was a transcendent experience for him. His breath stuttered as Asami pulled out slowly, letting him savor every centimeter of the hard dick stretching out his ass. A throaty moan slipped out when Asami thrust back in, and he felt the cock inside pulse in response. Soft lips and tongue bathed his back worshipfully, and his nipples hardened to taut peaks as Asami's scruff grazed his skin, fast becoming over-sensitized.

Kei groaned, bending down onto his forearems, laying his head on one of the pillows, and fought to not push back, to not hasten Asami's movements; he was determined to submit to this man as much as he possibly could. He raised himself up again on his hands, and his breath hitched when Asami laid his head on his back, thrusting in forcefully. Hips met ass, and they both grunted as Asami began to fuck him in earnest. The angle of the new position put the head of Asami's cock in direct alignment with his prostate. He knew the second it made contact. His world exploded in a riot of sensation, radiating out from his groin, and he cried out, voice harsh and broken.

"Did… I hurt you?" Asami managed to get out. Asami didn't stop fucking him through the question, Kei noted with wry amusement. He shook his head, unsure if he could catch his breath long enough to answer.

Long ropes of come dangled from his cock, strained to reach the blanket beneath him and quivered with each thrust. From the sight, he got more aroused, not believing he would ever have found come—his own or another man's—so incredibly erotic. He breathed in deeply Asami's musky male scent, and for the first time in his life, _needed_ to feel spend sliding down his throat. Asami's hand reached between his legs and wrapped thick fingers around his swollen erection. He was jacked off in time with the thrusts and lost all sense of self as the tourbillion of climax blazed around him, his balls drawing up with an acute ache, shooting his spend past his hands. The hoarse sound that came from within was close to a howl, his voice cracking as it hadn't done since he was a teenager.

Immediately after he orgasmed, Asami thrust in mercilessly, every slap of flesh punctuated by deep snarls. Kei yelped when Asami's teeth connected with his nape, though not with the crushing intensity of the first bite, and he stilled, a less dominant male in the jaws of his conqueror, as he felt Asami's scorching semen invade his insides, marking him. He whimpered, unable to prevent it from escaping, as Asami held him in the submissive position while time dragged out. When his nape was released, Asami's tongue gently lapped at the indentations, and then soft kisses replaced his tongue. He attempted to move (damn the man was heavy!), but was prevented by the steely strength in Asami's arms. He glanced up at the beloved face and received a curt shake of the head.

So he waited in silence to be given permission to move. Finally, Asami's cock slipped from his body, and he groaned at the loss of intimate contact. The arms didn't release him though as they rolled onto their sides, and Asami loomed up over him, a small furrow between his eyes. Was that concern he saw? Gently, Asami's fingertips touched his cheeks, and it was only then that he realized he'd been weeping. His body began shaking violently, and he forced himself to remain calm as Asami's hand wrapped around his throat. He was suddenly terrified of the expression on Asami's face.

"You are _mine_, Kirishima Kei."

The low, dangerous statement sent waves of panic screaming through his very soul.

"_Mine."_


	6. Chapter 6

******Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder, and I do not make a profit off of anything I write pertaining to Viewfinder.  
Rating: NC-17  
Spoiler: None.  
Warning: Non-Con Slavery, Language, Adult Concepts, Sexual Situations, ****etc.  
Pairing: Asami/Kirishima  
Summary: _To enter the inner sanctum of Asami's clan is a brutal, violent initiation and precious few survive the trial by fire. However, even among those men, Kirishima Kei is special._**

* * *

**Baptism By Fire Pt. 6**

"Asami-sama," was his strangled reply, as he scarcely could breathe with the hand cutting off his airway.

"Mine," Asami whispered again and released him abruptly.

He lay panting, fear and panic and desire and confusion conflating into one tangled emotion. He had no idea what was happening and no way to gauge Asami's mood. So he waited, too nervous to risk making any move on his own, and Asami stood, kimono gaping open. Kei caught the remnants of their coupling trailing down Asami's cock onto his thighs, and he tried to suppress the shiver running through his exposed body. He became aware that he was lying in his own cooling seed as Asami stood over him and offered him a hand up, gesturing for Kei to take it. He did and was pulled to his feet, tucked up under the other man's shoulder and aided into the washroom as Asami's spend trickled from between his ass cheeks. He leaned on the tiled sink, unable to fully support his weight on his shaking legs.

Asami wasted no time. Kei watched through the mirror as Asami turned the shower on and stripped, hanging the pristine kimono on the back of the door. Their eyes met in the mirror as Asami clutched his hips in a bruising grip. The wet heat quickly filled the room and soaked into his bones, had him heavily leaning on the cool tiles—such a contrast that it had his nipples peaking. Their gazes were firmly on one another as Asami ran a hand between Kei's legs, fingers dipping into the valley of his ass and it kept going, dragging the other man's spend onto his back. He felt the loving caress as he was coated in a fine layer of semen, could smell Asami's powerful male scent that had him getting hard once again. The golden eyes narrowed, and Kei shuddered at the raw possession reflected so starkly in their depths. He wanted so badly to take the other's cock in his mouth, to bring him the same—no, _more_—mind-numbing pleasure he'd experienced. He broke eye contact, glancing at himself in the mirror and almost recoiled in shock. Who the hell was staring back out at him wearing his face?

Deep pink lips were parted, waiting for Asami's throbbing length to delve into the warm, wet mouth and down his willing throat. His eyes were glazed and sweat slicked locks framed a face that was looking all at once too young and too old to be in his line of work. Etched clearly into his very skin was unfettered desire and an all-consuming ache to be at this man's feet, to submit everything he was and everything he would become… _No!_ With a startled gasp, he ripped his gaze away, unable to stand against the truth of what he'd seen, and back up in the mirror at Asami, whose piercing stare drove through him and stripped him to the bones in the rare moment of vulnerability. He shook his head slightly, denying the terrible vision, but unable to express the fermented confusion.

"No…" he moaned softly and hung his head.

But Asami gave him no quarter. The thick cock that took control of his being minutes before, entered his body again, pushing through the steady stream of semen leaking from his ass. He bit his lower lip to keep from crying out as he felt the large testicles meet the flesh of his thighs. His hands curled into fists unconsciously as Asami leaned over him.

"Asami-sama, no… please…" he begged. What he begged for, even Kei didn't know.

"Do something for me, Kei." The tone was husky and deep.

He turned enough so he could see Asami, the firm chin resting on his shoulder. He knew whatever the man asked of him, he would do. And he could do nothing else but answer honestly in the protected shield of Asami's heat.

"For you, anything," he whispered, perilously close to breaking down.

"Mmh, you may come to rue that," the other murmured against his temple and placed a light kiss there, as if in apology. Open-mouthed kisses followed his hairline to his ear, and Kei tilted his head with a deep sigh, giving the Devourer access to the same shoulder ravaged not an hour previously. "Your hand, Kei."

He blinked, a little disoriented with the battering he was taking from his emotions and from Asami's larger, more aggressive body. He offered up his left hand when he made the connection and breath left him in a rush as his boss'—no, _his lover's_—hand wrapped around his. He forced himself to remain slack as their united fist snaked behind their joined bodies and his hand was cupped around Asami's testicles, firm and the delicate skin so soft—such a contradiction to the male staring at him with incendiary intensity. Kei took the gesture as permission to touch as he would. So he did, gently massaging both organs, scraping over the pulsing veins, and he felt a deep shudder travel through the thickly muscled torso pressed hard on his back. A low rumble in Asami's chest had him seeking the other's eyes to see the inky black pupil dilate in response to the erotic friction.

"For you, Kei. All the seed my body makes this week is for you alone," he said with a low growl. "To mark you, within and without, covering you with my scent, and—" Asami paused, a wicked smirk slashing across the line of his mouth—"to feed your insatiable mind, soul and body."

He groaned, long and loud, as Asami's hands came around the wiry muscles of his abdomen, caressing him with tenderness exclusive to pregnant females sharing that secret with the sire of their offspring.

"You want that, don't you Kei." It was more statement than question. "I see you do. You want my cock choking you. And when I spill down your throat and into your belly, you will _never_ be able to get my taste out of your mouth."

Asami's last words were whispered, and they had him clutching the edge of the sink with white knuckles. Kei mewled as he began thrusting, trapped between the hard body behind and the sink in front, his cock painfully crushed with each filling of his ass. Still, precome marred the immaculate black tile, and Asami dipped two fingers into the expanding pool as he watched, feeling like the worst kind of voyeur. Asami's cock hit his prostate, and he couldn't stop the involuntary cry torn from his gut. His head lolled back onto solid, warm flesh, his legs growing weaker and weaker as they moved together in age-old rhythm, and Asami's other hand gently held his head in place.

"Yes," the bigger man panted, "you'll love the taste of my cock, won't you? Too bad you'll only taste yourself right now."

Too far gone to fully understand, Kei opened his mouth as Asami's precome-covered fingers outlined his lips, then thrust in, nearly choking him. He arched up, needing to take the taste of the man into his being; Dunhills, the caustic nip of gunpowder, and the fluid that betrayed his intense need, a drug of the most addictive kind. With a fierce, private pride, he doubted the man's other lovers could even guess that the residue on his fingers was from a firearm. His tongue stroked the underside of both fingers, absorbing the bitter salty flavor and tried to suck them in farther. Carefully, he grazed them with his teeth to their tips, where he nipped gently, and where they separated, his tongue dove in, his imagination helpfully supplying how the slit on the head of Asami's cock would feel and taste. He moaned softly at the tactile fantasy of Asami ejaculating in his mouth, the unique bitterness squeezing into the too small space and being forced down his throat in a wet gush. A surge of primal satisfaction had him bear his own teeth and growl softly when Asami shivered behind him.

"W-Wait," he whimpered as the fingers were withdrawn.

"No, I don't think so," Asami drawled and gripped his chin so tightly, Kei winced.

He was turned to face the mirror, and a virtual stranger stared back at him, with deeply flushed cheeks, eyes half shut and saliva and milky precome slathered over his chin. The wail he released was of a man condemned, and he wrenched away from Asami, only to have his chin brutally recaptured.

"Open your eyes. Now." The command was non-negotiable, so he obeyed reluctantly, terrified of what he'd see.

Even without glasses, the bright crimson trickle from his shoulder was a beacon, and both of their faces were in focus. As eye contact was made once more, Asami began thrusting into his smaller body like a male animal in rut, without consideration. Kei's cries of pain punctuated each echoing slap of flesh, and still, Asami wouldn't release his chin. Kei's throat bobbed violently, his slender neck on display as he unintentionally bared his throat between cries of pain, whimpers and pleas.

"A-Asami—_AH!_—sama! Pl—_NNGH!_—Please!"

Kei pressed his lips together, knowing the pleading wouldn't penetrate his ruthless boss-cum-lover's external shell. How often had he seen it with those who crossed Asami? Begging didn't touch the man. He braced against the counter, lamenting the bruises he would sport after so violent a taking and hovered on the precipice of pain and pleasure, not quite able to grasp the elusive ledge that would send him into the jaws of orgasm.

"Ooh," he moaned piteously when, much to his surprise, Asami's animalistic coupling transformed into slower thrusting so he felt all of the cock filling his ass.

Asami's tongue lapped sensuously at his back, and he arched into the wetness, moving with Asami instead of rigidly fighting the inevitable. Asami's bulging arm reached over him and wiped away the sweat from the mirror so they could see their reflections once more. Kei released an almost inaudible whimper as the hand cupped his chin, but where it had been crushing, it now was gentle. It still hurt, though, and in the back of his thoughts, Kei wondered how bruised his face would be.

"Don't look away," Asami ordered while fucking him. "I want to see you lose control as you come."

Asami gripped him by the throat, grunting low in his chest with each snap of his hips. Kei watched his own mouth fall open, and his tongue dart out to wet his parched lips, their bodies shuddering with every impact. Asami's golden eyes were wild, his arms caging him in, as if fearful the smaller male would try to bolt. To try and reassure the other man, Kei laid his head on Asami's chest where, even after decades of smoking, his heart beat with unwavering strength. Reaching up and behind, he grasped Asami's shoulders, warm and slick with sweat and a fine sheen of water from the steam.

His breath was stolen as Asami thrust at a different angle, hitting his already abused prostate, and he panted, open-mouthed, as he shifted his legs, giving wider range of access to his ravager. Moans echoed in the confined space as he couldn't hold them back any longer, and Asami picked up speed, driving them toward the cliff's edge.

"_Nnghh… Asami-sama,"_ spilled from his lips, quietly, as he couldn't catch his breath.

"Don't look away!" Asami snapped as he leapt with Kei over the edge.

Long, off-white ribbons flew from Kei's cock onto the black tile with a groan as he watched something akin to agony pass over his face, revealing an entirely different person—a sensual, erotic male unafraid of his sexuality or position. His lips trembled, his fingers curled around the biceps of the larger male leaving blood red scratches in their wake, and even without Asami's hand, his throat was bared in total surrender. Asami snarled as Kei felt the thick cock slide in balls deep, expanding to fill him past what he thought he could take, and he was held still as Asami released with a suppressed roar. Scorching heat rushed into Kei, searing him from the inside out, and he grasped tighter onto Asami, a sudden, irrational fear of being swept away by the all-powerful man seemingly not so irrational as he started to free fall from the high.

"Mine," Asami panted next to his ear.

Kei glanced in the mirror to find the other looking at him, so he cocked his head to the left to see Asami's intense stare boring through his soul. Their bodies were still joined as their lips smashed together, and he tasted the addictive tang of blood—his or his lover's, he couldn't tell. Not but an hour ago, he found giving up control one of the most difficult things he'd ever done.

"Only you," Kei whispered into their tumescent lips.

Asami pulled back, brows furrowed in question, and Kei shook his head slightly, dismissing the out of place statement. He leaned up and initiated the second round of kisses, bold in the moment to run a hand through Asami's damp, silky black hair. Only this man could ever bring him to his knees. A thick tongue violated his mouth, and Kei groaned as it explored its recesses, leaving its mark of ownership; Dunhills again (that damned brand was rapidly becoming his own secret fetish), mint, cognac and power. Heady. His legs gave out but arms with unsearchable strength held him up, held him in place until the last kiss ended with Asami tenderly stroking his cheek and slowly separating. Hating the loss of contact and berating himself for such feminine behavior, Kei still leaned into the hand on his cheek.

Without speaking, Asami led him into the hot shower, and his muscles rejoiced once he got used to the heat. Dissociated, he watched Asami's spend tinged pink circle the drain and disappear. He jumped as the larger man from behind began to massage his shoulders, being careful of the bite wound.

"I-I should be serving—"

"No," Asami said curtly, cutting him off. Then added in a gentler tone: "There will be time later. Relax, Kei."

Over the next several minutes, Kei's body went boneless in Asami's hands as he was soaped up and massaged from head to toe. Special cleanser was used on the wound to prevent infection, and the touches used to clean it were considerate and compassionate, bringing tears to Kei's eyes. The attention he was given was too much, and he turned suddenly in Asami's arms, burying his face in the man's neck—the scent of safety and comfort, predominant even over the fresh smell of water. _What the fuck is wrong with me? _he screamed in his mind as sobs wracked his lithe frame. He was losing himself somehow, being stripped of everything as easily as Asami changed his tie. _How? Why?_

"I'm going to check you, Kei," he stated, his words leaving no room for argument. "I was a bit… zealous and want to make sure you're uninjured."

His face still buried in the long column of neck, Kei nodded. With a little soap for lubricant on a finger, they stood front to front, one of Asami's arms still holding him tightly. His breath quickened as the finger slid easily into his swollen hole, and while it wasn't exactly painful, it was less than comfortable. He'd had one prostate exam in the last two years, and it came close to feeling like what he was experiencing, but with more care given, probably due to the fact it was Asami performing the exam. With that in mind, he managed to relax before Asami withdrew.

"You're fine," he sighed against Kei's ear and placed a chaste kiss on one of the corners of his mouth, then the other corner. "Mmh, you're mine, so I need to take good care of you."

Asami had always been in control, even in their early teen years, but the control Asami was exerting felt like it had always existed, lying dormant, waiting for a moment when Kei was less than fully on guard. He shivered, a wave of cold passing through him in spite of the hot water pounding on his weary flesh. Kei knew the trials were to weed out the weak in Asami's ranks, but what did all of it mean for him? He perseverated on those thoughts until Asami finally turned the shower off and opened the glass door, allowing him to step out first. With the same care and attention he'd paid to cleaning Kei, Asami dried him off thoroughly, and then dried himself off. With a couple of well-placed hand strokes, Asami's hair fell into line, and he slipped the kimono back on, leaving it untied. Kei had to bite his cheek so nothing disrespectful came out as Asami took his kimono from the peg and held it up like the perfect gentleman for Kei to put on.

With an infinite number of curses on the tip of his tongue, he shrugged into the fine silk kimono and followed suit, running his hands through his hair to bring some semblance of order to it. He gave Asami an expectant look when he finished, and they went back into the single room. Wordlessly, Asami offered Kei a cigarette, and he lit two when Kei accepted. Asami sat on one of the low, expensive couches, and the man's eyes followed him around the room, the fine hairs on his nape tingling in response to the scrutiny. Kei knew he was flitting about like a hummingbird but with the jumble of emotions that settled as a ball of lead in his gut, being still was nigh unto impossible.

_Any second now he's going to tell me to sit the fuck down because I'm making him nervous. _Kei snorted inelegantly and regretted it at once, wincing. He was profoundly glad his back was to his boss—he had to keep some professional distance there. Didn't he? _The gods favor fools and children, and I am their king,_ he thought, sighing deeply. Then he frowned. Me_ make _him_ nervous? That's laughable. Has he seen himself lately?_ The frown became a scowl. _Oh right. He has._

"Kei."

He started badly at his name and yelped, spun around, feet already in position to defend himself. The ashes from his cigarette floated down to the hardwood in a beam of sunlight—only he and Asami, the latter on the couch with his kimono wide open and a leg being used to prop the hand that held his Dunhill. Amusement warred with concern, and Kei could see amusement was winning. His case of nerves came back full force when Asami crooked a finger at him, and he self-consciously held his kimono shut. More amusement. Squelching the immediate desire to punch the other man in the nose, Kei shuffled forward, hesitation engraved in each small movement that brought him closer to his demise: truly damned if he did, damned if he didn't. He was so close now he could see the pulse at Asami's throat beating tenaciously, and he started to kneel, to make sure his head was lower than his boss' as a sign of respect. Asami reached out and snared his wrist gently but firmly, tugging Kei onto the couch between his legs. He took the mostly smoked cigarette from Kei and put both of them out, then embraced his assistant like a child.

"You're tense again," the sonorous voice skimmed down his hairless back. "Stop fighting me."

"B-But I'm n—"

"Yes, you are. And I need you to stop, or this is going to be much worse for you."

Kei let out the breath he'd been holding, sinking further into the safe circle of Asami's arms. They were chest to chest, hearts beating together directly across from one another, and it occurred to Kei, in reality, what did he have to lose? Certainly not his job, and Asami assured him that he was very much under Asami's protection, so his life wasn't in danger. But he was missing something integral to the situation, he felt it, and that was making him anxious and unable to fully let go.

"You belong to me," Asami continued.

Kei tensed as the other man gently cupped his flaccid cock and testicles in one large hand and his ass in the other.

"These are mine, as are these," he said and lifted his chin to lick away the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Shit. When did his eyes start leaking again?

And what did Asami mean by his claim of ownership? Didn't he already work for the man, dedicate every free minute to Asami and his interests?

Unless…

"Someone will be joining us for the remainder of this week," Asami stated casually, as if he were discussing the weather and not Kei's life.

He jerked in the unrelenting arms as if burned, even though the hand was kneading his balls, attempting to distract him.

"Or until he's accomplished what I've ordered him to do."


End file.
